Riccabocca, Jemima, and Jackeymo continued to gaze after it from the
gate.

"She is gone," said Jackeymo, brushing his eyes with his coat-sleeve.
"But it is a load off one's mind."

"And another load on one's heart," murmured Riccabocca. "Don't cry,
Jemima; it may be bad for you, and bad for him that is to come. It is
astonishing how the humours of the mother may affect the unborn. I
should not like to have a son who has a more than usual propensity to
tears."

The poor philosopher tried to smile; but it was a bad attempt. He went
slowly in, and shut himself with his books. But he could not read. His
whole mind was unsettled. And though, like all parents, he had been
anxious to rid himself of a beloved daughter for life, now that she was
gone but for a while, a string seemed broken in the Music of Home.




CHAPTER VII.

The evening of the same day, as Egerton, who was to entertain a large
party at dinner, was changing his dress, Harley walked into his room.

Egerton dismissed his valet by a sign, and continued his toilet.

"Excuse me, my dear Harley, I have only ten minutes to give you. I